


Let's talk about gains, baby

by JaneBuzJane



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Athletic Instructor AU, Banter, Closet Sex, Coffee Shops, Creampie, Crushes, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fem Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Genderbending, Genderswap, Gym Sex, Gyms, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, PIV Sex, Rule 63, Semi-Public Sex, Squirting, Teasing, Trapped In A Closet, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneBuzJane/pseuds/JaneBuzJane
Summary: Lorenz just started working at Eisner's Gym. Her studio is right across from the spin instructor, Claude's.And Claude's thighs.In which yoga instructor Lorenz falls for spin teacher Claude, tries coffee, and eventually gets the fucking of her life, in that order.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan, Mentioned Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Mentioned Past Sylvain Jose Gautier/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70
Collections: FE3H Valentine's Exchange 2021





	Let's talk about gains, baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yahabooty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yahabooty/gifts).



> HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, OMER! I had a blast creating this for you - thank you so much for your amazing prompt and I hope it's everything you wished for!!!! 
> 
> Note to readers: Lorenz is genderswapped in this fic and has a vagina. Also, this fic features unsafe sex (i.e. sex without a condom), so if that squicks you, don't read!

Lorenz was having her customary cup of tea in the staff room when Claude came in, sleepy-eyed and quiet. It was early, and the two of them were often the only ones to arrive at Eisner’s Gym at this time of the morning. It was also the only time Lorenz ever saw Claude quiet. It amused her that Claude took a great deal of time to wake up, often only perking up after he’d finished half of his drink. 

“Good morning,” she offered. “Was there traffic?” 

He chuckled as he started the coffee. The fragrant warmth of it began to fill the room, and Lorenz wrinkled her nose.

“It’s four-thirty in the morning, Lorenz,” he said. “There was no one on the road. What about you? You’re usually here after me.” He gave her a crooked smile that made her warm all the way down to her toes. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “Thought it better to get a head start on the day.” 

Claude leaned against the counter and tilted his head to the side. “You didn’t get much sleep, huh? Is that why you’re wearing a…” He gestured vaguely to his face. 

Confused, Lorenz touched her face, then gasped, horrified. She had forgotten to take off her undereye masks. “Oh, blast it,” she muttered, turning away as Claude burst into laughter. “It’s rude to laugh at someone’s morning pick-me-ups,” she said hotly, peeling away the patches. “I forgot I had them on - Claude, please, it’s not that funny.” 

His giggles finally subsided. “Yeah, it is,” he said. “Were they little shooting stars?” 

“Enough,” she hissed, slipping them into her bag. “You will never speak of this to anyone, or I’ll know who it came from.” 

Claude gave her a little salute, still snickering, and brought his mug of coffee to the table. Though the smell of the coffee was strong, the scent of him was even stronger, bright and freshly showered. 

Lorenz glared into her tea. She’d been through this with Sylvain before, and she would not fall prey to it again. 

“I might have to tell Hilda, you know. She loves cute little makeup things, and the shooting stars are right up her alley.” 

“You will not,” Lorenz said, narrowing her eyes at Claude. “It’s far too early for teasing, you know. Let a woman drink her tea in peace.” 

“You’ve already had one cup,” Claude said. He sat back in his chair triumphantly at her raised eyebrow. “There’s already two teabags in the trash.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Well done, detective,” she said. “You’re a regular sleuth. Yes, this is my second cup, though my right to peace isn’t determined by how much tea I’ve had on any given morning.” 

Claude laughed softly to himself and sipped at his own mug. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you be, just for this morning. I wouldn’t want you to aggravate your eyebags again.” 

He laughed louder when she punched him in the shoulder.

  


* * *

  


It went like that, most days. Claude was a constant figure in Lorenz’s periphery, always flitting about and making Eisner’s Gym feel like the warm, cozy place that it was, and she found herself envious of the ease with which he was able to relate to his friends and coworkers. 

A few weeks later, Lorenz was in a foul mood when she arrived at the staff room after morning classes. Marianne and Ignatz were sitting together when she entered, and she burst out at once, “Have either of you seen the body wash that I keep in the locker room? It’s gone missing.” 

Ignatz shook his head, but Marianne sat straight up. 

“Oh no!” Marianne gasped. “Yours was the purple, labeled one, right?” 

“Yes, you’ve seen it?” Lorenz said eagerly.

“Well, no,” Marianne said, wilting. “Only in the showers. I never used it, of course.” 

“Same here,” Ignatz said, rather unhelpfully. “It’s distinctive.” 

“It ought to be,” Lorenz groused. “It’s imported." She sighed. "Well - please let me know if you do. I should hate to be without it.” 

“I hope you find it.” Marianne’s smile was tentative.

Lorenz did her best to smile back. “My thanks, Marianne.” 

She tried to eat her lunch in peace, but the sticky, slightly sweaty feel of her body made her eager to leave as soon as possible. She was unaccustomed to letting sweat dry on her body, and she knew her hair must be a sight. Perhaps Sylvain would allow her the use of his body wash, as loathe as she would be to ask him for anything. 

Her dark thoughts were interrupted by Claude, Hilda, and Sylvain’s loud entrance into the otherwise quiet room. 

“Whoa!” Claude exclaimed. “Smells a bit ripe in here, huh?” 

Hilda giggled. “We work at a _gym_ , Claude. Some of our friends sweat, instead of glisten.” She tossed her pigtails around, narrowly avoiding hitting Claude in the mouth.

Lorenz ground her teeth. Trust Claude to zero in on the source of her discomfort immediately and broadcast it to the entire world. 

“My body wash has gone missing,” she said loudly. “I was unable to shower before lunch, as I normally do.”

“Not the purple, flowery stuff?” Sylvain asked, flopping into a chair. “Had your name on it?” 

“In Monotype Corsiva font, too!” Hilda chirped.

Lorenz blushed furiously. The labelmaker had only had so many font type options. 

Claude watched her closely from the doorway, grinning. Lorenz squirmed. “Have any of you seen it?” she asked impatiently. “It’s quite expensive.” 

“You left _expensive_ body wash in a gym shower?” Sylvain said, eyebrows raised.

“Not very smart of you, was it?” Claude said, chuckling.

“It was labeled!” Lorenz snapped. “I shall go around and sniff every single one of you, if I must, so hand it over!” 

“Are you like, a bomb-sniffing dog?” Hilda asked curiously. “Is that how that would work?” 

“Nah, she’s one of those high-bred dogs that lives at the groomers,” Claude said with a grin. “Like a poodle.” 

“Or one of those ones with the long silky hair!” Hilda agreed, oblivious to Lorenz’s glower. 

“That’s quite enough,” Lorenz said furiously. “I do not appreciate the insinuations you two are - insinuating - when I am practically distraught! Do you have any ability to _read the room?_ ” 

Claude raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any ability to take a joke?” 

"As if it was funny?" she demanded, her voice getting shrill. "Because I'm not laughing, Claude."

"Maybe you just don't have a sense of humour," he said, his voice clipped despite his smile.

"You're mocking me," Lorenz said stiffly. Her knuckles went white around the strap of her shoulder bag. "I won't stand for it." 

"Hey, you said it first," Claude said, shrugging. His smile was practiced as he turned on his heel and left. "See you, Gloucester." 

_Do not address me as -_ "Oh, you insufferable oaf!" Lorenz snapped as Claude left, and she sunk into her chair as a chorus of chuckles erupted from around the room. She glared at the offenders: Sylvain, mostly, and Hilda, while Ignatz and Marianne hid their smiles with varying degrees of success. 

"Congratulations," Ignatz offered. "For what it's worth, I've never heard him resort to dog jokes that quickly. You’ve only been here for what, two months?" 

"And _I've_ never made an archenemy quite so quickly, yet here we are," Lorenz said with a huff.

"Hey, archenemies can be fun." Sylvain's eyes sparkled. "Just ask Hilda here about me and Hubert." 

"Why wouldn't she ask _you?_ " Hilda shot back. 

"And deny you the chance to gossip? Never," Sylvain said. “You’ll find your body wash, Lorenz,” he added, giving her foot a friendly kick under the table. “Somebody probably used the last of it in a pinch and threw it away. I can ask Raph when he comes in tomorrow, yeah? He was here yesterday.” 

Lorenz nodded. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. She sighed as the room subsided into idle chatter. “I apologize for making things awkward.” 

Sylvain shook his head as he took a huge bite of his sandwich. “Hey, I’ll take an apology from you any day, but it’s Claude you had words with.” 

Lorenz rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know that. I was merely trying to smooth things over. I -” she hesitated. “I truly do not wish to make enemies here.” 

“You won’t,” Sylvain said. “People will forget about it as soon as you show up tomorrow with a new bottle of purple stuff, smelling all lily-fresh.” 

“Orchid,” Lorenz corrected him out of habit, before wincing. “Yes. Point taken. Thank you.”

Lorenz finished her lunch in silence, idly ruminating on how best to word her apology to Claude. They’d bickered before, but nothing that had caused him to walk out. And Lorenz knew his lunch was in the fridge, so he couldn’t be eating it now. How would he have enough sustenance for his afternoon classes? She sighed down at her lunch, appetite lost.

She was drawn from her fretting thoughts by Sylvain. He stretched, working out the kinks in his neck with a crack that made Marianne wince. "Alright, back to the front desk grind. See you gym rats at lunch." 

"Did you ever start the grind?" Marianne asked quietly. 

Lorenz snorted as Sylvain gave her a grin and a two-fingered salute, slapping the doorframe as he left. The rest of them began to gather up their things and shuffle out towards the studios, so Lorenz hastily gulped the rest of her water and stashed her bottle inside her bag. 

She fell into step with Ignatz as they walked down the hallways to the studio. “I apologize for my overreaction at lunch,” she said. “I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for you all..”

Ignatz smiled up at her. “Thank you,” he said. “That means a lot, Lorenz, but none of us took any offense.”

They rounded the corner, and Claude, catching sight of them, waved pertly through the glass of his own studio, takeout dishes surrounding him on the floor. Lorenz sighed. 

  


* * *

  


Fortunately, Lorenz was so engrossed in teaching her own class that she had no time to worry about Claude and what he may be doing in his own studio. After two classes and the struggle to fix a new wave of names and faces in her brain, Lorenz was exhausted and red-faced when the break before the last set of evening classes came, and looked forward to joining the rest of the employees in the staff room. 

As she shut the door to the studio behind her, Lorenz saw a flash of Claude's yellow shirt out of the corner of her eye. "Claude!" she called, jogging down the hallway. "Claude, wait!" 

She almost bumped into Claude when he rounded the corner. Claude was leaning against the wall, eyebrows raised. 

"What's up?" Claude asked, cocking his head. His tone and body language were casual, but not overtly friendly. 

Lorenz straightened her shirt and cleared her throat. "I apologize for my combative behavior this afternoon," she said formally. "I took offense, perhaps wrongly, and I fear it was an overreaction. I would not like to alienate any of the staff here. Or you," she added, looking down. 

Claude shook his head. "I didn’t mean to push you that far. My mistake.” 

"Thank you," Lorenz said gratefully. "It is... difficult, coming from a gym of one's own, into a - a more cohesive unit. I merely let my temper get the better of me." 

Claude pushed himself off the wall and clasped Lorenz on the shoulder. "We'll make a peer out of you yet," he said. "Apology accepted. Now, snacks." 

Lorenz nodded, forcefully biting back the observation that Claude had to reach up very high to touch her shoulder, and opened the door to the breakroom, ushering Claude inside. 

"Oh, beauty before age, huh?" Claude said. "Thanks."

Lorenz sputtered. "How - that's - I am _not_ older than you!" 

"You are," Sylvain called out, glued to his phone. "I processed your paperwork." 

"And I hate to inform you, Claude, but the shade of Lorenz's hair is way cuter than yours. So that part of your rebuttal doesn't really work." Hilda smiled at them sweetly over her salad as Claude protested. She didn’t seem to harbor any ill will from the afternoon’s spat, and Lorenz relaxed slightly.

"Thank you, Hilda," Lorenz said, nose in the air. "As much as I would love to take credit for it, it's genetic." 

"Oh, really?" She said, her eyes going wide. "All this time I totally thought you bought it!"

Lorenz gaped at her, appalled, but her dignity was saved by the arrival of a tall, hulking blonde man in the doorway. 

"Hello?" he said, peering around the doorframe. "Is this the staff room?" 

Claude and Sylvain's heads shot up in tandem, staring with wide eyes at the new arrival. Lorenz couldn't blame them. He was handsome in a classic, princely way, and the muscles that bulged from his sleeveless tank were enough to have Lorenz herself feeling a bit faint. His face was kind, and it was apparent that he was nervous.

"It is, yeah -"  
"Right on time -" 

Claude and Sylvain stopped when they realized they'd spoken over each other. Sylvain's eyebrows worked furiously as he tried to convey to Claude something with his eyes alone. 

Rolling her eyes at them inwardly, Lorenz took over. "This is the staff room, you're correct," she said smoothly, offering her hand. "Are you lost?" 

"Oh! No, I - I'm here to teach," the man said, stepping fully into the room and clasping Lorenz's hand in his like some sort of lifeline. "I'm Dimitri. It's nice to meet you." 

"It's so lovely to meet you too, Dimitri. I'm Lorenz. What are you here to teach today?" 

"You're subbing for Marianne's evening weightlifting class, right?" Sylvain burst out. He had apparently won the eyebrow war. "Dimitri Blaiddyd? I'm the one you talked to on the phone." 

"Oh, Sylvain!" Dimitri said, breaking into a beaming smile. Hilda made a wounded noise behind Lorenz. "Yes, I remember. Your directions were very easy to follow. I doubt I would have found this place otherwise." 

"C'mon, big guy, let's get you set up," Sylvain said with a grin. 

Dimitri nodded, apologizing profusely as he moved aside too quickly and knocked over a chair. His cheeks went ferociously pink as he hastily righted the chair and followed Sylvain out, his head down, and Lorenz heard a longing sigh from Claude's side of the room. 

Claude's chin was in his hand, watching the door with a fond look. "What? He's adorable," he said, to Lorenz's inquisitive eyebrow. 

"He's adorably hot," Hilda said, stuffing her face with a forkful of salad. "Probably has a big dick, too." 

"He looked like the type, didn't he?" Claude said. He absentmindedly toyed with his spoon, shifting his gaze to Lorenz. "What did you think, Lorenz? He's cute, right?" 

"Oh yes, very," Lorenz said. She felt her own cheeks going pink at discussing a future colleague in so crass a manner. "I'm sure he has lovely manners and a sparkling personality." 

Claude burst out laughing. To Lorenz's horror, Hilda joined in, and Lorenz’s ire began to rise at their blatant hysterics. 

"Just _what_ is so funny?" she snapped. 

"Oh, Lorenz," Claude said, giving her a toothy grin. "I don't think you'd understand." 

"I'd understand perfectly." Lorenz said. "You haven't given me a chance to do so, which is a bit unfair, don't you think?" 

"Fair? It's a conversation, Lorenz, not an equal transaction of goods." 

"Is that not what a conversation is by default? An equal transaction of words and ideas?" Lorenz leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at Claude's sharp smile. 

Hilda giggled. "Do you two need some alone time to work this out?" 

Lorenz spared her a glance. "Do we appear as if we need some alone time?" 

"Honestly? Yeah," Hilda said sweetly. 

"No, no," Claude said, opening the fridge. "The only thing I'm going to be doing during my alone time is working on my next spin certification." 

"Not... thinking about Dimitri?" Lorenz ventured. 

Claude's smile was lopsided. "Jealous?" 

"Of course not!" she hissed. She crossed her arms as Claude laughed again and retrieved his lunchbox, tossing it on the table.

"Lorenz, babe," Hilda said, pointing at her with her fork. "You're practically green over there." 

"I wouldn't dare." Lorenz retorted. "Green clashes with purple, and the result is quite unsightly." 

She frowned as they burst into giggles again.

Their conversation fell into idle chatter as the rest of the staff filtered in for their break, all in various states of sweaty undress. Everyone greeted a perpetually blushing Dimitri with kindness after he and Sylvain returned, and the more Lorenz observed, the more she knew that her earlier accusations were absurd. As the talk wound down and time crept past, Lorenz rose and packed up her things, eager to get back to her studio and get a head start on preparations for the last class of the day. 

"Lorenz! Wait, I'll come with you," Claude called after her. "I can't witness any more of Sylvain's terrible flirting," he said, laughing quietly as he caught up. "It's all going right over Dimitri's head." 

"Oh, is that what that was?" Lorenz said archly. "I thought he was going for the Olympic gold medal in unflattering innuendos." 

Claude snorted. "I'd give him lessons on how to flirt with a pretty boy, but I'm pretty sure it's a lost cause." 

"Hardly. What's that about old dogs and new tricks?" Her assumptions about Claude slotted into place: gay, or possibly bisexual. Though given that he'd never taken any notice of Hilda's flat midsection or generous bust in her crop top - one that pained Lorenz's breasts to think of the lack of support - or even Lorenz's own rear end in her leggings, she would have to mark him down as gay for now. She ignored the small curl of resignation in her stomach. 

"Well, if anyone’s a dog, he is." Claude unlocked the door to his studio as Lorenz raised an eyebrow at yet another dog joke. "Don't work too hard, Lorenz. I heard talk of post-work drinks." 

Lorenz rolled her eyes. "I'm busy tonight." 

"And tomorrow, I'm sure." 

"Naturally." Lorenz narrowed her eyes. "You know I find it unseemly for a lady to be drunk in public." 

"Don't let Hilda hear you say that." Claude said with a wink. "Really though, you should come along one week. It's good for team bonding." 

Lorenz hesitated. Team bonding wouldn't be such a bad idea, and she _had_ rather kept to herself since she’d begun at Eisner’s. 

"Perhaps," she said finally. "Thank you for the invitation. I will consider it." 

"I'll take that as a firm 'Yes,'" Claude said, rapping on the glass. "See you after work, Lorenz!" 

Lorenz pursed her lips, shaking her head, and let herself into her studio.

  


* * *

  


Somehow, staff room morning coffee had evolved over the months into Claude and Lorenz trying out different cafes and pop-up coffee carts. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince Claude that she didn’t consume coffee regularly - and that she was, in fact, more fond of tea as a caffeine vehicle - but when he’d finally come around, he devoted his time to finding a coffee that didn’t offend her palate. 

Lorenz found it sweet, in a way, though she knew it was partially borne of Claude’s stubbornness. In fact, she found their routine soothing, and had come to look forward to meeting him each Monday and Thursday.

That day, Claude met her at a new cafe downtown, tucked into the shell of a former dance studio. She shivered in the cool morning air as Claude approached with a lazy wave.

“Morning, stranger,” he said, barely able to cover his yawn.”Did you find the place alright?” 

“I don’t live far from here, actually,” Lorenz said, holding the door open. “Inside, before we both catch cold.”

“I run hot,” Claude said, but entered the building laughing softly at Lorenz’s scowl. 

The inside of the cafe was empty, as early in the day as it was, with only two employees behind the counter. It was warm and cozy inside, and despite her initial reservations, Lorenz felt herself warming up to the atmosphere. Claude was already peering up at the menu, 

"I’ll be having tea, as usual. I can't drink the coffee here," Lorenz said automatically, reaching for her wallet. "They don't -" 

"- have the pressed kind, right," Claude finished for her. The only coffee they’d managed to find that Lorenz hadn’t condemned was a manually pressed, ridiculously expensive type that was hard to order outside of boutique salons. "But did you actually look at the menu?" 

Lorenz glanced up, scanning the board above the counter. "What - oh! They do!"

Claude chuckled. "I've listened to your complaints week to week to know what you like in a coffee shop." 

"You know what I like in a tearoom," Lorenz corrected him. "The two are not the same, but I thank you for your consideration. I'll have the pressed coffee, then, with a splash of milk." 

"That's great, honey," Claude said. "Now tell the nice barista that, not me." 

Lorenz rolled her eyes and relayed her order to the unimpressed barista whose nametag read 'Shamir.' "And he'll have - Claude, what will you have?" 

She stiffened as Claude pressed up close behind her, murmuring a list of menu options under his breath as if considering each one. He leaned his weight into her, sliding his hands around her waist to hold the counter in front of her. The warmth of his body after the chill of the outside air was blazing, scorching enough to make the hairs on her neck stand on end, and when he gave a thoughtful hum, she felt it echo from his chest into hers. Finally, just as she summoned the wherewithal to speak, Claude sighed and finally said, "Vanilla latte." 

Before Lorenz could protest, he moved away again, saying something about grabbing a table. Lorenz released a shaky exhale, and grabbed the counter since her knees had suddenly, curiously, become very weak. 

Shamir looked her up and down, then snorted. "Alright, a fancy pressed coffee and a vanilla latte for the lovebirds, coming right up." She rang up Lorenz's total as Lorenz gaped. 

"We are - we are _not,_ " Lorenz whispered furiously, before ending with, "We are nothing of the sort." 

Shamir raised an eyebrow. "Your total is nine fifty," she said. 

Lorenz huffed and paid, before making her way to the table and settling down across from Claude. She studied him in a new light: perhaps she’d have to revise her classification of his sexualty. That move of his had been calculated.

Apparently noticing that she was flustered, Claude grinned at her. "Something the matter?"

"Not a single thing," Lorenz said sternly. "Despite your efforts to the contrary." 

"Efforts? What, you mean taking you to a nice coffee shop for your fancy coffee before work? I'm being _nice_. Nice, Lorenz." 

"That's your idea of 'nice?' How quaint." Lorenz said. She shrugged off her jacket and let it rest on the back of the chair before lacing her fingers together and glaring at Claude across the table. "You didn't even pay." 

"It was your turn!" Claude said, laughing softly. 

"A gentleman should always pay for a lady." Lorenz said with a sniff.

Claude's answering grin was too much of a smirk for Lorenz's liking. "And are you worthy of being called a lady?" 

Lorenz scoffed. "If you couldn't tell that much, my pedigree and womanly stature must have faltered, and I can no longer continue in this manner. Good day." She propped her chin on her hand and idly glanced at Shamir working the counter as Claude snickered, leaning back in his chair.

"Fair enough. I suppose I'll ask Sylvain, then. He ought to know." 

His tone was light, but Lorenz stiffened all the same, frowning. His words made her stomach swoop, and not in the pleasant way that it had when he'd been pressed against her at the counter. Feeling sick, she clenched the edges of her chair for support and glared at Claude. "You know that it's not like that between Sylvain and I," she said tersely. "And it hasn't been since the first few days I began work at Eisner’s." 

He opened his mouth to say something, but Shamir's voice calling out their order - "Latte and a press for the only two people here!" - made him shake his head and stand, ambling over to fetch their coffee.

Lorenz stared down at the table and attempted to compose herself. She didn’t want to give Claude further ammunition - he couldn’t know how much she regretted the tryst between herself and Sylvain, or as _he’d_ called it, a ‘one-night stand’ - even if she and Sylvain now got along quite well. 

Claude’s return prompted her words. “Sylvain and I, what we had, was, ah, merely an indiscretion.” 

Claude set her coffee down and shook his head, sliding into his chair. “It’s a non-issue, Lorenz. I didn’t mean -” 

“But it is important to me that you understand it,” she stressed. “What happened between Sylvain and I was nothing more than a single night’s bad decision that bore shameful fruit.” 

Claude coughed into his latte, staring at Lorenz over the rim of his cup. “Lorenz, are you - you’re not pregnant, are you?” 

“No!” she yelped, aghast. “I only meant - it was a tryst!” 

A beat too late, she saw the twinkle in his eyes, and she scoffed, kicking him. “Cad,” she muttered. 

His laughter was infectious, and she smiled down into her mug before taking a sip. She closed her eyes in bliss: _this_ was a proper beverage.

“Even if it was serious, though,” Claude began, once he’d composed himself. “Byleth has no rule against coworkers dating.” He fiddled with his latte, shifting it back and forth.

“I know that much,” Lorenz said, nodding. “Marianne and Hilda aren’t very discreet about their relationship status, though I do believe Marianne tries to keep it under wraps.” 

“And Hilda likes to cry it from the rooftops, so it balances out,” Claude said.

Lorenz cleared her throat. "And which one are you?" she asked, smiling wryly. "I'm guessing you're the ‘shout it out’ type."

Claude grinned. "You'd be surprised. I can be discreet when I need to be."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Lorenz replied tartly.

Claude just smiled.

  


* * *

  


Sylvain and Dimitri hardly needed to announce that they were together: a few weeks later, when Sylvain led Dimitri into the staff room with a giant hickey on his neck and a catlike grin, the whole room burst into cheers, and Lorenz suddenly knew beyond the whisper of a doubt why the yoga mats in her studio had been left out so carelessly the night before. 

Nevertheless she clapped politely, laughing under her breath at how inseparable they seemed, and how Dimitri’s blush only faded when he extricated himself from under Sylvain’s arm. By all rights she ought to ask them to clean the mats, but it was still early enough in the morning that she could do it herself, and she didn’t want to interrupt their victory lap. 

She slipped out, taking her tea with her, and left the door to the studio open as she knelt down to begin sanitizing the mats and stacking them back into place before class.

She had only managed to wipe down two before Claude’s voice rang out from behind her, startling her. 

“Forget to clean up last night, Gloucester?” 

“Hardly,” she replied, shaking her head. “I leave my studio as neat as a pin when I leave, unlike you.” 

“What can I say? I get here early enough to clean them before I start.” He crouched down beside her and took a sip of her tea, ignoring her exasperated look. “You want some help?” 

“If you can spare it,” she said. “I suspect that these have been defiled by Dimitri and Sylvain.” She suppressed a smile as Claude choked on her tea. 

“That’s a grim thought,” he said, then hopped up to grab a second rag and spray bottle. “We could do them together? You start at one end and I start at the other?” 

Lorenz rolled her eyes. “Fine, but no horsing around. We’re on a schedule, you know.” 

“I don’t know,” Claude said brightly. He knelt beside her and began to scrub the mats down with her, humming softly under his breath. "What does horsing entail?"

She laughed under her breath. "Anything that constitutes your normal behavior, I should say." The familiar smell of him set her at ease, and loosened her tongue. “It’s funny,” she mused. “I didn’t take Dimitri to be one for public displays of…” 

“Of sex?” Claude asked, snickering. “I doubt it was him. Sylvain probably started it.” 

Lorenz scoffed. “Yes, he did have a propensity for -” She stopped, blushing, and busied herself with another mat. 

“Did he, now?” Claude asked slyly. “That’s an interesting confirmation.” 

Lorenz shook her head, unwilling to be baited into an argument with Claude that would surely end up with her looking the fool again. 

For a moment, Claude was quiet. Then Lorenz heard the spray of the squirt bottle, and felt its contents soaking into the side of her shirt. 

“What in the Goddess’ name - Claude!” she cried, raising her arm to check the damage. “There’s alcohol in these, you know!” 

“That just means it’ll dry quicker,” he said, grinning. He sprayed her again, then scrambled backwards. “Lighten up, Lorenz!” 

Lorenz teetered on the edge of propriety for a moment, biting her lip, before grabbing her squirt bottle and spraying it at him. 

He ducked, dancing towards the other end of the studio. “Is that all you’ve got?” he called out. “Come on, try harder!” 

“Oh - you!” Lorenz floundered and raced towards him. “Stop running away!” She managed to get him in the chest, and directly over the front of his sweatpants, before he managed to hit her square in the chest too. She giggled, slipping a little on the wet floor. 

“Are you afraid?” he taunted. “Surely Lorenz Hellman Gloucester has better game than this.” 

“So you _do_ know my name!” she crowed. Her next spray caught him in the back as he turned to run. “I knew you knew it wasn’t ‘Henrietta!’”

He turned and stuck out his tongue, spraying the collar of her shirt at the same time. 

With a growl, she tackled him at the knees, and they landed heavily on the pile of cleaned mats. The spray bottles flew across the floor with a clatter as they caught their breath, laughing a bit too loud to be entirely proper.

“I do believe this means I win,” Lorenz said smugly. Pinned beneath her, Claude’s grin widened, and Lorenz couldn’t do anything to wipe that smile off his face other than kiss him.

Beneath her, Claude froze. Panicking, Lorenz, began to draw back, but with a desperate sound Claude suddenly cupped her neck and kissed her back fervently. 

“O-oh,” Lorenz said as Claude broke away. “Claude…” 

She didn’t get farther than that before Claude rolled them over in a ridiculous, not-at-all-arousing display of athleticism, squeezing Lorenz’s hips with his thighs and inching his fingers beneath her shirt. He was an eager kisser, and the sheer need powering his deep, heady kiss - the urgency - answered some call within her as she arched up against him with a choked-off cry.

A tap on the studio’s glass wall startled Lorenz, and she broke away from Claude, her chest heaving, lips wet. Ignatz stood outside the studio, looking nervous. He pointed to the hallway, and sure enough, Lorenz could hear the sounds of her coworkers approaching. 

Her heart flew into her throat. She couldn’t be seen doing this - not with Claude, not after Sylvain…!

“I can’t,” she gasped, scrambling away. “I - my apologies, Claude, I shouldn’t have...” 

“Lorenz, what are you - Lorenz, wait!”

She hastily rearranged her clothes and fled in her cowardice, leaving Claude sprawled alone on the floor, looking rumpled and far too tempting. 

“Thank you,” she whispered to Ignatz as she rushed past. He only nodded, and she made her way to the customer restroom with the intent to hide there until class began. 

When she returned, three minutes before starting time, she felt a terrible, yawning pit in her stomach to see that all of the mats had been cleaned and put away, as if they’d never been disturbed.

  


* * *

  


It was difficult to avoid Claude, after that. 

She seemed to run into him everywhere: in the staff room, in the locker room, traipsing out late at night after the classes were through. After the third time she’d almost run into him as he’d exited the staff room, she had taken to eating her lunch in the locker room amidst the smell of sweaty clothes and menthol.

Claude seemed to be taking his cues from her. He no longer wrote her messages on the studio mirror, or tried to catch her eye while they were instructing their classes, and he’d entirely ceased texting her about their morning coffee… assignations. 

She was miserable. 

The rest of the staff could tell that something had happened, though they seemed not to know exactly what. Lorenz hadn’t told anyone, and as far as she knew, Ignatz and Claude were being similarly tight-lipped. That was her only saving grace: perhaps her reputation could be saved, even if her dignity couldn’t. 

_What is wrong with me?_ she thought wrathfully, as she found herself unable to pay attention to her own class. Instead, her eyes wandered over to the spin studio, where Claude shouted enthusiastically into a headset as he increased the incline on his bike. His thighs were _bulging._ Lorenz wanted to scream. 

“And next, flow into downward-facing dog,” she said instead, shifting backwards. Her class followed. 

Later, Hilda cornered her in the staff room as Lorenz tried to grab her lunch and make a quick escape. 

“Lorenz!” Hilda said, her tone saccharine. 

Lorenz winced. “Ah, Hilda, yes, I have a call to make, so I can’t stay long, apologies -” 

Hilda grabbed Lorenz’s elbow and towed her out of the staff room, ignoring Sylvain’s whistle and Marianne’s questioning look. 

“Alright, Lorenz, here’s the deal.” Hilda pushed Lorenz against the hallway wall and shut the door to the staff room with her foot, cutting off the noise emanating from within. She was all business now, glaring up at Lorenz with a disturbing amount of ferocity. 

“Care to explain why my bestie Claude has been down in the dumps ever since he went to go cheer you up after the Dimivain reveal?” At Lorenz’s disgusted look, she rolled her eyes. “It’s their portmanteau. Like a celebrity couple. I made it up, so you can’t use it without my permission.” 

“I hadn’t noticed Claude had been acting strangely,” Lorenz lied. “Perhaps he’s having some trouble in his personal life.” 

Hilda snorted. “You’re cute, Lorenz. But not that cute.” She placed her hands on the wall on either side of Lorenz, caging her in. “Tell me what you did to hurt him, and I’ll let you off easy.” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Lorenz said hotly. “Nothing happened!” 

Hilda cocked her head, squinting up at Lorenz. “Ooh.” She drew the word out slowly. “So something totally did happen. And you two aren’t talking about it, because he’s him, and you’re you.” 

Lorenz frowned. “That’s quite a rude-sounding comment.” 

Hilda giggled. “Good! It was an insult.” She gave a faux sigh, pushing herself off of the wall. “Alright. I suppose I’m going to have to fix this like a good best friend, aren’t I?” 

Lorenz was overcome with panic. Hilda was a gossip whose loose tongue couldn’t be trusted, and if she found out that Lorenz had accosted Claude as she had done with Sylvain, there’d be no stopping the jeering insults and muttered accusations of trying to sleep her way to the top of the food chain at Eisner’s. 

“Hilda, please,” she pleaded. “It’s nothing, I promise you.” 

Hilda merely waved her off. “Don’t worry, Lorenz. I’ll get to the bottom of it.” She disappeared back into the staff room, leaving Lorenz alone in the hallway, clutching her rumpled lunchbox.

  


* * *

  


The next day, Lorenz had just stepped out of the shower when she received an urgent text from Dimitri. 

_To: Lorenz_  
_From: Dimitri B._

_Lorenz, can you come to the supply closet? I locked myself in again, and Byleth said that if I broke another door it would come out of my salary._

Lorenz hissed in sympathy, sending back a response as quickly as she could with slippery fingers.

_To: Dimitri B._  
_From: Lorenz_

_Of course, Dimitri, I’ll be there right away._

She dried herself off haphazardly and threw her hair into a bun, slipping on the clean, comfortable clothes reserved for post-work journey home. The keys to the utility closet hung on a hook next to the locker room door, and she grabbed those as she jogged down the hallway. 

Eisner’s was almost deserted at this hour. Lorenz spotted Marianne wiping down the mirrors in her studio, and as she passed the staff room, she could faintly hear Ignatz humming. She had been under the impression that Dimitri and Sylvain usually departed together, but perhaps they’d had different plans today. 

Her phone vibrated in her leggings pocket, but Lorenz ignored it for the moment, panting as she reached the utility closet. It only took a moment to unlock it, but when she opened the door, instead of finding an embarrassed Dimitri, she found a grim-looking Claude. 

“Claude?” Lorenz asked, stupefied. “I was told Dimitri was - oh!” 

Someone planted their hands in the middle of her back and shoved her forward. Lorenz stumbled into the closet, barely avoiding a large shelf full of cleaning solution before Claude caught her. 

The door slammed shut behind them. “Work it out!” Hilda’s voice rang out over the click of the lock. 

“She - she _locked us in?!_ ” Lorenz exclaimed shrilly. “We’ll suffocate! Hilda - Hilda!” 

“It’s no use,” Claude said wearily. He set Lorenz upright on her feet and leaned against the wall with a sigh. “I texted you, but I guess you didn’t get my message. Or you ignored it. One of the two.” 

“I - ah.” Lorenz fished her phone out of her pocket, wincing at the text notification from Claude. “Well, I ignored it, but only because - only because I thought Dimitri was trapped! I had no reason to expect guile from _him._ ” 

“But you did from me?” 

“No!” Lorenz snapped. “I just didn’t look at my phone in time! Honestly, Claude, I may be - whatever Sylvain called me, ‘snooty,’ but I’m not malevolent.”

Claude eyed her for a moment. “I didn’t say anything to Hilda,” he said finally. “About us. Did you?” 

Lorenz shook her head. “I didn’t, but she somehow managed to figure out that something was amiss and took it upon herself to fix it.” 

“That sounds like her,” he said. The corner of his mouth turned up. “So, Lorenz. What’s new with you?” 

He didn’t seem angry or irritated. Only closed-off. Perhaps… perhaps she could salvage this. Attain everything that she wanted, and set their relationship to rights. Lorenz looked down, steeling herself, before swallowing hard and meeting Claude’s eyes. 

“You know that I had a dalliance with Sylvain,” she began. “Very soon after I started working here. It was a mistake, though enjoyable at the time.” 

Claude nodded. “You’ve told me that much before.” 

“Yes, well.” Lorenz said, flustered. “I worried - worry - that were someone to find out that I made advances upon you, that not only would you think me promiscuous, but that others would think I was trying to climb the ranks by sleeping with those in influential positions.” She gulped. “So I ran. And I didn’t want to bring any of it crashing down on you - it simply wouldn’t have been fair - so I tried to avoid you to the best of my ability.” 

She hardly dared hope as Claude broke into a smile. “So you _do_ want to bang me.” 

“That’s what you’re taking from this conversation?” Lorenz asked, flabbergasted. “Claude, did you hear a word of what I said?” 

“Yep,” Claude said. He stepped forward, grinning. His eyes were bright, even in the dim light of the closet, and Lorenz found herself transfixed. “You didn’t want to let people know you were subject to such lowly human emotions as desire. For me. Specifically.” He managed to get Lorenz right up against the door, and she stared down at him, unnerved. 

“Not only that,” she protested weakly. “I was afraid people would see us being indiscreet.” 

Claude chuckled. “Dimitri and Sylvain defiled the steam room, and you were worried that a little kiss was going to scar your reputation?” 

Lorenz nodded as a blush crawled across her cheeks. “I’d told you I wasn’t going to date a coworker,” she said softly. His closeness made her feel as if she should whisper. “I didn’t want to be made a liar.” 

“You want a date and everything that comes with it,” Claude said gleefully. “You sap.” 

Claude was the one to initiate the kiss this time, his mouth warm on hers as he pressed her against the door. It was everything she’d been wanting since she’d first tasted him - no, before that, since the first time that he’d watched her eagerly as she tried the coffee he’d chosen for her. Lorenz moaned and tugged him closer, seeking the warmth of him against her, and he grabbed her hips and squeezed, kissing her deeper, heavier. 

“Nngh, Claude,” she gasped. Her head fell back as he trailed a line of kisses down her throat, the scrape of his beard giving her goosebumps as she imagined the feel of it in other, more vulnerable places. 

“Lorenz,” he groaned. He brushed his lips slowly across the jut of collarbone that had been revealed by her loose-fitting sweatshirt. He nibbled it gently, and she jolted in his arms with a quivery sigh. 

She carded her hands through his hair and drew his head up, kissing him with a desperation that was too telling. He matched her passion, slipping his fingers below her shirt and cupping her ribs, then her breasts, thumbing over her nipples so irreverently it made Lorenz choke on her next inhale, back arched. 

“I want it too,” Claude murmured. He urged her arms up, drawing her sweatshirt over her head and tossing it aside. He raked his eyes up and down, and Lorenz felt his gaze like a weight, settling hot and dark between her legs. “Dating you. Fucking you.”

Lorenz’s knees gave way at the smoldering promise in his words. 

Claude caught her with a self-satisfied smile, following her down to the floor until he was hovering over her on all fours. Lorenz grasped his arms and drank in the scent of his skin, freshly showered and smelling like - 

Smelling like - 

"Claude," she demanded, digging her nails in. "Are you the one who took my body wash?" 

Claude paused his advances, bewildered. "Uh." 

"I can smell it all over you!" Lorenz insisted. "I _knew_ you were the one who -" 

"Shh, shh," he whispered, and then nuzzled the space between her breasts, slipping her sports bra up to rest underneath her arms and briefly making her lose her train of thought. He glanced up at her with a wink before covering her breasts with his palms again, trapping her nipples between his fingers and teasing them with his tongue. 

“Oh Goddess,” Lorenz said brokenly, before she tugged at his hair. “Claude, Claude - I won't be distracted by your touch, you know!” 

Claude skimmed his hands down her chest, squeezing cheekily at her waist again before drawing a finger teasingly down her slit, over her sweatpants. He ignored Lorenz’s gasp, only laving his tongue over her breast before taking it into his mouth.

Lorenz squeezed her eyes shut as she fought not to scream at the soft, wet heat of his mouth; at his warm hands that were everywhere, caressing her and pulling her apart until she thought she might scatter into a million pieces beneath his touch. She pressed her legs together to relieve the ache that gathered, but she only succeeded in squeezing Claude, who hummed and pressed the heel of his hand against her mound. 

“I have wanted to get my hands on your tits since the first time I saw you,” he said casually. Lorenz moaned brokenly and lifted her hips against his hand, seeking more, but he only kissed her and moved down, spreading her legs with a hand on each thigh. 

His grin was downright cheeky. “And I’ve wanted a taste of this since the first time you yelled at me.” 

Lorenz scoffed, though it was less confident than she’d have liked, and kicked him in the side with her heel. “You can’t fool me that easily, Claude.” 

He laughed, then began to inch her pants down her thighs. “It’s true! Here, see for yourself.” 

He took her hand and pressed it against the front of his own pants, and Lorenz’s lips parted with a shaky breath as she cupped the length of him. It was far from the first cock she’d touched, but he seemed to be the thickest, judging by his shape. His hips jerked as she curled her fingers around it, and Lorenz was surprised at how hot she felt, how eager. Her need was evident - she could feel the slickness of the small thatch of curls at the top of her thighs each time she twitched - and the promiscuity of it thrilled her.

Claude let her fondle him for a moment before he nudged her away and slid her sweatpants fully down, trapping them on the edges of her boots. He ducked underneath her legs and let them rest against him before planting his hands on either side of her shoulders with a grin. 

“Flexible indeed, you little yoga minx."

Lorenz raised herself up on her elbows and kissed him, hard, then pushed him back down between her legs. “I’m taller than you are,” she informed him. 

Claude was chuckling even as he placed a kiss to Lorenz's bud, a gentle pressure that had her covering her mouth to silence the cry that bubbled up in her throat. Her breath hitched at the first stroke of his tongue against her lips, and a muffled noise escaped her as he ran his fingers through the slickness of her vulva before slipping one inside her, teasing her open. 

"Ah - _Goddess_..." Lorenz clenched down on his finger. He stroked her in the same tempo that he licked her, nudging his nose against her clit in a way that made her clench her jaw as her cunt opened easily to him. His beard was wiry and rough, as she'd imagined, and as drunk on pleasure as she was, it made her throb even harder. Her hips fell open, but Claude wrapped his free hand around her thigh, pinchinq and squeezing the muscle there and humming with approval when Lorenz yelped and shivered.

She almost whined when he slid his finger out, but her whine became a yelp as he lifted her hips and buried his face in her pussy, plunging his tongue inside her while he grabbed greedily at her ass. Lorenz's hips bucked against his face, his tongue only massaging the ache that was building up in her core and driving her to distraction as she chased it with her hips. 

"I'm going to come," she warned him, her voice thready. "Ah - fuck, oh, f-fuck...!" 

She locked her ankles around his neck and pulled him closer with a silent gasp as he broadened the stroke of his tongue, flicking over her clit. With a cry, Lorenz's body tightened spectacularly - had she ever had an orgasm this strong? - and her focus narrowed only to the ache between her legs, the one Claude kept lengthening as his tongue worked furiously against her entrance. She sobbed while he worked her until she was gushing, her release slicking his chin and splattering across the floor.

She was tempted to keep him there as she came down, but the next stroke of his tongue had her wincing with overstimulation, and she eased her hold on his neck. Her backside hit the storage room floor with a wet slap, but she had no time to grimace before Claude was stripping her of her boots and pants and scrambling up to kiss her, cupping the back of her head with one hand while the other shoved his own pants down. 

"Hottest thing I've ever seen," he murmured against her mouth. "Gods, Lorenz, an orgasm looks good on you." 

"Everything looks good on me," she said, panting. "Except for yellow." 

"Fishing for compliments is beneath you," Claude said, groaning as he finally managed to remove his trousers. His cock was standing stiff against his stomach, flushed red and gleaming at the tip. 

A dull pulse shot through Lorenz at the sight. 

He reached down and adjusted his cock so it slid between her lips, still slick with a mix of his spit and her own arousal, and rested his forehead against hers as he began to thrust. 

"Don't worry," he murmured, shutting his eyes. "I won't put it in, I just want to feel you."

Lorenz took his jaw in her hands and kissed him to muffle her shout at the pleasure-pain of her overworked clit as he slid against it. Goddess, but did she want him to fuck her for real, fast then slow then fast again. "Claude, oh Goddess, _more._ "

He grinned down at her. "This isn't enough for you yet?" he panted. His hips didn't stop, and Lorenz swore her eyes crossed. "Want me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours until you just can't take it anymore?" 

She tugged him down by his shirt collar and landed a biting kiss on his neck, grinning triumphantly as his rhythm stuttered. 

"Fuck me," she groaned, her lips against his ear. "Put it in, Goddess, please, I haven't fucked anyone since Sylvain." 

The look in Claude's eyes turned wild, and he grinned. "You sure?" He drew his hips back far enough to nudge the tip against her entrance. "Lorenz?"

She nodded eagerly. "It'll be fine, I use a contraceptive."

Claude groaned, still pushing against her, but not pushing inside. "You really wanna do it like this?"

" _Yes_ , now stop teasing," Lorenz said through gritted teeth. "When I get you in a bed, I'm going to make you beha - _ah!_ " 

Claude slid inside her in one smooth motion, and Lorenz wailed her pleasure as he filled her, satisfying the lush throb at her core. He pushed her thigh back and drove in deep, grinding against all the spots that he couldn't reach with his tongue. She could hardly breathe with the presence of him surrounding her, overwhelming her at every turn, and she shuddered through another orgasm.

"Fuck, Lorenz, your cunt is so greedy." Claude's voice was a shredded rasp. "Gods, it - you're milking me, you're so tight, it's like you never want me to leave." 

"Your mouth is filthy," Lorenz hissed, trembling. "You need to be g-gagged - ah!"

Claude dropped his head against Lorenz's shoulder and chased his own orgasm, lasting only three more strokes before he finished inside her with a hoarse moan. Lorenz’s legs twitched shut around him, luxuriating in the feel of their bodies together after he’d exhausted himself trying to please her, before he slid out. He rested his head on her thigh and drew shapes against her stomach as they both caught their breath. 

It only took a moment before Claude began running his mouth again. 

"So you really haven't slept with anyone since Sylvain?" he asked. "That was forever ago." 

Lorenz sat up on her elbows and frowned at him. "Some months," she said. "I am secure enough in myself that I do not need the safety net of a relationship to keep me from my thoughts." 

Claude held her gaze. "Me too." He gently pinched the skin on the inside of her knee. "You want one, though."

"Have we not already discussed this?" Lorenz said, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, I do. Preferably with you, though I suppose if you keep blabbering on about this I can go find Sylvain." 

"Mm, I think the discussion of threesomes is supposed to be saved for a little later into the relationship," Claude said indulgently, ignoring Lorenz's squawk and tug of his hair. 

Lorenz flushed. "I really will gag you if you continue on this way." 

Claude looked up at her with sparkling eyes. "I'm counting on it."

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: [JaneBuzJane](https://twitter.com/JaneBuzJane)
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> [My FE3H fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Bfandom_ids%5D%5B%5D=23985107&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=JaneBuzJane)
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> Thank you so much to Bees - I couldn't have done this without your help and editorial skillz!!


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